


No More Secrets

by seekeronthepath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fic amnesty, Gen, POV Outsider, Post-Season/Series 02, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Stilinski Family Feels, Unfinished, but I thought I'd share it rather than delete it because there are some good bits, but not by much, well. the sheriff's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 13:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekeronthepath/pseuds/seekeronthepath
Summary: John makes some time to have a Conversation with Stiles. It doesn't turn out anything like what he was expecting.[Please note: this one-shot is UNFINISHED.]





	No More Secrets

The worst thing about it all was that John hadn’t even known Stiles was ready to start talking about the secrets that had created such distance between them until the kid left a letter on his desk.

A physical letter. Christ. He still had it practically memorised:

 

_Dad,_

_I’ve been trying to talk to you about the secrets we both know I’ve been keeping for a while now, but I guess things have been busy. Let me know when you’ve got time ~~for me.~~_

_Stiles_

 

Well. After that, John _really_ wanted a drink, but he knew that one drink wouldn’t stay one drink, and he didn’t want to put _that_ on his son as well. Since about six months after Claudia died, he’d been very careful about that. Mostly. But _god_ , that letter. ‘Let me know when you’ve got time for me,’ Stiles had written. He may have crossed out the last couple of words, but John knew they’d been honest. He scrubbed a hand down his face and stuck his head out the door. “Barbara?” he called. “Do you have a minute?”

The station administrator finished up a few things on her desk and handed the metaphorical baton to her assistant. John waited, holding the door for her. _No-one_ took Barbara Mackay for granted around the station. She’d give you all the worst shifts if you did, for a start. But really, she probably knew more about how the station worked than John did, at this point. Which was why he wanted her help. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” she asked, glancing at the paperwork that, as usual, covered his desk.

“Something’s come up with Stiles,” John admitted, adding hurriedly, “He’s fine.” Stiles had practically grown up in the station. Everyone knew him here. “But, well…I was hoping you could help me figure out how much of _this_ ,” John waved at his desk, “I need to deal with to take the weekend off with a clear conscience.”

Barbara smiled approvingly at him. “It’s about time you took a day off – you’ve taken more overtime this year than any two other officers put together. Let’s get this sorted out.”

 

\-----

 

The point was driven home when John got home that night at quarter past five and found Stiles already eating, a covered plate for John in the fridge. John retrieved it without comment and reheated it in the microwave, realising as he did that, even in his absence, Stiles had been making heart-healthy meals. And John had been too worried about what Stiles might be doing wrong to realise or acknowledge what he was doing right. Well, that was ending now. “Thanks for dinner, son,” John said easily as he brought his plate over to the table and sat down. “It looks good.”

Stiles stared at him, and John hid a wince. He _definitely_ needed to thank Stiles more. “Uh – you’re welcome, Dad,” the kid stammered, clearly trying to seem nonchalant. Then a wary look entered his eyes. “How was your day?”

“Well, Barbara helped me dam up the tide of paperwork,” John said, as if it was no big deal. “And she’s helped me arrange things so I don’t have to go in over the weekend.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open – fortunately, it was empty. “The whole weekend?” he asked incredulously. “You’ll be home?”

Dammit, dammit, dammit. Just because Stiles was old enough to look after himself didn’t mean John got to leave him on his own. God, Claudia would be ashamed of him. “The whole weekend,” John confirmed. “And I’m happy to have that talk whenever you want.”

Stiles’ growing smile collapsed into worry. “The – the talk. Right. Yeah. We should do that. I, um, I’m going to Scott’s tonight, but tomorrow sometime, maybe?”

John knew, by now, that ‘going to Scott’s’ didn’t actually mean ‘going to Scott’s’, but now wasn’t the time to argue. “Sounds good,” he agreed. “Don’t let me interrupt your plans.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles mumbled, rushing to finish his meal. He’d dumped his plate by the sink and hurried out the door by the time John finished eating, leaving John to wonder: what the hell was he going to do with all this free time?

 

\-----

 

John was a little disappointed when Scott showed up the next afternoon. He didn’t want to interrupt Stiles’ time with his friends, but still. He’d hoped they’d get The Conversation over with sooner rather than later. But to John’s surprise, Stiles and Scott didn’t follow their normal pattern of settling on the sofa with snacks and video games. Instead, Stiles came out to the garage, where John was trying to make a dent in several years of ‘temporary storage,’ with Scott hovering nervously over his shoulder (and since when was Scott _nervous_ in the Stilinski house?) and asked John, “Uh, Dad? Could you, um, come inside for a bit?”

John looked at what little progress he’d managed to make and shrugged. “I sure don’t mind taking a break, I’ll tell you that much,” he admitted, putting down the container of miscellaneous screws that had somehow ended up out here. “Good to see you, Scott,” he said easily as he walked towards the house.

Scott ducked his head. “You too, Sheriff.”

“How are you doing?” Scott was looking good, even if he _was_ nervous. He’d gotten a lot healthier lately, which must be a relief for Melissa.

Scott glanced at Stiles, as if he was checking for something. “I’m good, sir. Stiles has been helping me get my grades back up.”

“Yeah, once I managed to get you away from Allison for three seconds,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

Scott looked affronted. “Hey! It’s not _Allison’s_ fault we’ve had to –“ He cut himself off abruptly, prompting a curious look from John. “Uh. Do…other stuff?” Scott finished awkwardly.

“Oh my god, Scott,” Stiles hissed. “‘Do other stuff?’ You couldn’t think of anything better?”

John cleared his throat, sitting down at the dining table. “So,” he said heavily, when Stiles and Scott both spun to look at him guiltily. “I’m guessing you’re here to help Stiles explain things to me, Scott.”

“He’s kind of the ‘show’ in the ‘show and tell’,” Stiles admitted, and sat down. “Uh – you don’t have your gun, right?”

“I don’t carry when I’m off duty, which you already know,” John pointed out, raising his eyebrows. It wasn’t like Stiles to forget something like that.

“Good, good,” Stiles said, twisting his fingers together. “So, uh…” He took a deep, shaky breath. “There’s a whole lot of little secrets and sh- uh, crap, sorry Dad – but they kind of don’t make sense without the big one, so…werewolves.”

 

John raised his eyebrows and waited for Stiles to make sense. “What about them?” he asked after a moment.

Stiles licked his lips. “Um…Scott?” he said hesitantly.

Scott closed his eyes, and his face…warped, distorted, _changed_ into something hairy and deformed. “Whoa!” John cried, jumping halfway to his feet, hands held out in front of him. “What the hell is going on?”

“Scott’s a werewolf?” Stiles hazarded.

“Scott’s a – a werewolf,” John replied, stumbling over the word. This was impossible. “Can Scott…can he change back?”

“I’m still me, Sheriff,” Scott-the-werewolf reassured him, slurring around his fangs. Jesus Christ, Scott had fangs. A moment later, his face was back to normal.

“You’re a werewolf,” John said blankly. “You…when did this happen?” But his mind was already seizing on a date, on the chaos and the lies that had started with the death of Laura Hale, with the… “Animal attacks.”

Stiles winced. “Got it in one,” he said weakly. “Not that that was Scott! It was P- another werewolf, the one that _bit_ Scott, and he’s, um, we dealt with him.”

“Who’s we?” John said, unimpressed. “You and Scott?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. “There _may_ have been some other people involved.”

“Other werewolves?” John asked.

“Some of them,” Stiles replied. “But Allison’s not a werewolf! Or Lydia.”

“Lydia,” John said flatly. “Lydia _Martin_.” That girl had decided to acknowledge Stiles’ existence? Sure, she’d been seen in Stiles’ general vicinity a few times recently, but he’d assumed it was because of her friendship with Allison, Stiles’ friendship with Scott, and Scott and Allison’s general inseparability. The night after the lacrosse championship in the winter, John had counted as a fluke. Apparently he’d been wrong. “I think you’d better tell me who else is involved with this.”

“Well, Scott, obviously,” Stiles said hurriedly, giving Scott a completely unsubtle warning look. “And Allison and Lydia, I mentioned them. And, uh, Jackson?”

“The police van incident,” John said flatly. “That was to do with this?”

“He was kind of a murder-lizard at the time?” Stiles said tentatively.

“It wasn’t his fault!” Scott hurried to add.

“It was kind of his fault,” Stiles pointed out. “He did ask to get bitten.”

“Yeah,” Scott conceded, “but he didn’t _think_ he was going to become a kanima.”

“A what?” John asked, then thought the better of it. “No, hold that thought. Who else is involved?”

“Isaac Lahey,” Scott said, exchanging glances with Stiles.

“Erica and Boyd,” Stiles added, biting his lip.

“And?” There was obviously more. Even if what they’d _already_ said was reason to rethink a whole lot of things.

“…Derek Hale,” Stiles admitted.

“As in Laura Hale’s brother,” John said flatly. “Who you accused of murder.”

“To be fair, we did actually think he did it the first time,” Stiles said.

“The _first_ time?”

Scott winced. “The second time it was the best I could come up with, and we thought he was dead so it wouldn’t matter.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, despite the abrupt cut-off. If you're interested in working with the idea or continuing it, feel free!


End file.
